Chapter 142: Iron Elder (Part 1)

On the lead-gray waves outside Xinhai City, a steel behemoth drifted lazily.

It was a massive luxury cruise ship—the Red Flame.
Its extravagance was enough to make even the wealthiest moguls speechless.

But now, the open-air pool and casino—usually bustling with voices—were utterly silent.
Only the moaning sea wind echoed across the empty deck.

There were no tourists on board.
Instead, the ship was filled with men in black suits and sunglasses—bodyguards standing rigidly like statues.

A man at the railing glanced at his watch and said quietly:

“Time’s about right. They should be here.”

Just as he spoke, a small passenger boat cut through the distant sea fog and arrived on schedule.

It didn’t approach directly.
Instead, it remained at a cautious distance.

Several figures disembarked from the small boat, boarded a tender, and were ferried to the cruise ship.

The bodyguards on deck immediately lined up on both sides and bowed ninety degrees in perfect unison—obedient to the extreme.

But the newcomers didn’t even look at them.

They didn’t slow down.
They walked straight into the interior of the ship.

Their destination—
the top-floor Chinese restaurant: Dragon & Phoenix Pavilion.

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The “Dragon & Phoenix Pavilion”

The restaurant’s décor was overwhelming in its luxury.

Sandalwood screens carved with intricate patterns, golden dragon-pillar columns, and a giant crystal chandelier hanging from the dome—all radiated the indulgent flamboyance of Hong Kong-style opulence.

But this vast space was now eerily empty.

The newcomers passed a purple sandalwood screen painted with “Birds Worshipping the Phoenix,” and finally reached a round 八仙 table in the corner.

Seated there was their target—
an elderly man in a red Tang suit.

His features were round, his slicked-back hair impeccably neat.
The slightly receding hairline and old-fashioned black-framed glasses made him look like a retired professor.

At the moment, the old man calmly enjoyed a steaming stew with a small spoon—elegant, leisurely, almost serene.

The newcomers exchanged glances, softened their steps, and approached.

They stopped before the table and bowed respectfully.

“Master Tie…”

Only then did the man—Old Iron—slowly raise his head.
When he saw them, his face lit up with a warm smile, as if greeting beloved nephews he hadn’t seen in years.

“Oh-ho-ho… Little Long, Little Hu, and Little Hai!”

He waved cheerfully.

“Sit, sit! Look at you—have you boys not been eating well lately? All skin and bones!”

The three exchanged a look, then sat stiffly around the table, backs straight as rods.

Old Iron smiled in satisfaction.
He picked up the communal chopsticks and placed a glistening piece of meat into each bowl.

“Come, come—try this! I had someone specially prepare this fine leopard banquet with bear paw!”

“And this—tiger bone soup! Hahaha, you can’t get this easily back home. This Bengal tiger was shipped in just for me.”

“Oh, and this! Steamed tiger whip! Tsk tsk, what a treasure. I almost couldn’t bear to touch it earlier. One serving for each of you—don’t be shy! Shape nourishes shape! Take some home for the wives!”

The three could only accept stiffly, murmuring thanks as they mechanically swallowed the kinds of “delicacies” that would send normal citizens straight to prison.

Old Iron watched them eat with satisfaction and finished the last sip of his soup.

“Mm…”

He burped lightly, dabbed his mouth with a napkin, finally full.

Setting the napkin down, his half-squinted eyes gained a nostalgic glimmer.

“To think… to think we’d ever gather like this again. Feels like a whole lifetime ago.”

“Now people call you Dragon Brother, Tiger Brother, Sea Brother—strutting around all high and mighty…”

“But back then? We were all sweating like pigs in that crappy Huaxia Heavy Industries factory!”

“Little Hai, you were the workshop manager. You were the biggest bastard of all—always docking my pay! Hahaha!”

“And you, Little Long, Little Hu—you two were security guards… You little punks stole my cigarettes every day. Made me bring you lunch! No respect for the elderly!”

Long Brother and Hu Brother’s faces twitched with embarrassment, but they forced polite smiles.

Old Iron pulled out a pack of Hongtashan.
Long Brother immediately leaned forward, offering a lighter with both hands.

“Fwoo…”

Old Iron inhaled deeply, the smoke blurring his unreadable expression.

“Good thing I was lucky. Found that miracle product—Immortal Dust, then latched onto Elder Tai’s thigh, became his godson, married his adopted daughter…”

“That’s how I got the money to gather all you old brothers again and build the Akacheng [Red City] Gang in Xinhai.”

He slowly raised his head.

Behind the lenses, his eyes flashed with a sharpness utterly unlike his kindly outer appearance.

“Now tell me—
in all of Xinhai’s underground world…
who dares disrespect the Akacheng Gang?”

He smiled, gaze sweeping across the terrified trio.

“Isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes! Of course!”

“Hehehe…”

The three joined him in awkward laughter, the atmosphere heavy and suffocating.

No one dared speak.

Old Iron watched them silently, then suddenly leaned back in his Taishi chair.
He tilted his head, exhaling smoke toward the chandelier.

The haze drifted upward, glowing under the lights.

“Face? What useless face.”

He laughed softly—self-mocking, weary.

“Times have changed, kids.
It’s a harmonious society now.
Crackdowns everywhere.”

“People like us… rats crossing the street. We can’t show our faces anymore.”

He flicked the ash.

“And now… we tuck our tails between our legs.”

The restaurant fell into dead silence.
Only the faint hum of the AC could be heard.

Long Brother and Sea Brother sat like clay statues.

But at the end of the table, Hu Brother—whose face perpetually looked angry—had muscles twitching uncontrollably.

Beneath the table, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Finally, unable to endure the suffocating silence, he jerked his head up and rasped—

“Master Tie… are we just going to sit and watch?!”

“Watch the police raid one warehouse after another? Watch brothers who followed us for over ten years get thrown in prison for life?!”

“Let them take them.”

Old Iron sounded indifferent.
He poured himself tea, blowing across the surface with calm leisure.

“This Xinhai leadership—they have ambition, and iron fists. Head-on confrontation is foolish.”

He sipped.

“As long as you three Hall Masters remain, as long as we still hold Immortal Dust, these losses won’t break us. Not even close.”

But his calm was like pouring boiling oil into Hu Brother’s chest.

“Then what about Wrench?!”

Hu Brother shot to his feet, eyes bloodshot.

“Wrench is dead!”

“He was the West Hall Master! One of our best craftsmen!
And he died silently—on our own turf! Not even a sound!”

“Master Tie! Can you swallow that?!”

“When did our Akacheng Gang become so damn cowardly?!”